Greg sat on the couch, staring blankly at his TV. His daughter was behind him in the kitchenette, preparing her breakfast. He couldn't see her, but he could still visualize Olivia perfectly. She wore the same thing every morning.
A pair of dainty, cheek-hugging panties. And nothing else.
Her long, black hair would be draped down her shoulders and chest in streaming ribbons and her voluptuous bust would be exposed along with her thick pink nipples.
His daughter's figure had been tormenting Greg for weeks. But only the day before she had made him an offer. A poisonous salve for his predicament.
"I'm sorry Liv, but... That offer you made yesterday. Did you mean that?"
"Oh, about giving you a hand? Sure, wouldn't be a problem."
"I see," Gregg muttered. "Then now would be a good time."
"Okay!" she chirped. "Lemme just finish up these eggs real quick and I'll be right over."
Eventually Liv rounded the corner. She was still three-quarters nude, her bright blue eyes beaming, and an absent smile on her face. Her gaze was immediately drawn to her dad's waist. Through his boxer shorts, the tenting of an erection was obvious.
"You'll have to take it out if you want me to do sumthin'."